


Two Truths and a Lie

by hawksonfire



Series: Clint Barton Bingo 2019 [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Awesome Darcy Lewis, Clint Barton Bingo, Darcy Lewis's iPod, Darcy can tell when people are lying, F/M, Fluff, Mutant Darcy Lewis, Waffles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-15 23:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18083204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/pseuds/hawksonfire
Summary: Darcy Lewis does not lie. Clint Barton doesn't think she can always tell when someone is lying. So they make a bet.





	Two Truths and a Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y'all! I'm super excited to post this because it's my first work for Clint Barton Bingo. Clint is one of my favourite Marvel characters and I've had this idea for mutant!Darcy bouncing around for a while, so I figured why not combine the two?
> 
> Square filled: Clint/Darcy
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**Darcy**

Darcy Ann Lewis does not lie. Not to her parents, not to her friends, not to herself. The first - and last - time she told a lie, she was five years old and her mother asked her how many cookies she had eaten after dinner. She said one.

 

And then her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed onto the kitchen floor. Her mother screamed and her father ran into the kitchen. Her parents say that she woke up almost right away and immediately apologized for lying.

 

Her parents wanted to take her to the hospital, but she just looked at them in that special way that young children have, and said, “It’s okay, mommy. I just can’t lie again. It was three cookies.” 

 

The years passed, and by the time Darcy was twelve, she knew that she was somehow able to tell when someone was lying to her. It started off as an itch behind her ear, and then graduated to nausea and dizziness the longer she went without acknowledging the lie.

 

By the time Darcy was fifteen, she understood that her ability only told her someone was lying if they knew they were lying. She found this out the hard way when she asked her boyfriend if he loved her. He said yes and he was telling the truth. Two days later, she discovered him kissing Jessica Matthews under the bleachers and when confronted, all he said was, “I love her too.”

 

Darcy has always told the truth. Even when it costs her. So when a man falls out of the sky in New Mexico and claims to be the god of thunder, she believes him. When he tells them he needs to get his hammer back, Darcy is the one who comes up with the plan for her to stall the guards while Thor sneaks in and gets it. Which is how she finds herself standing in front of a  _ very _ well-muscled thug, complaining about her missing iPod.

 

“Seriously, though? It’s a freaking iPod, it’s not like there’s state secrets on it or anything.” She rolls her eyes. 

 

“Ma’am, you'll get your iPod back as soon as we finish examining all of Dr. Foster’s work,” the thug says. 

 

“Don’t lie to me, mister!” Darcy says, sticking a finger in his chest. “I always know when someone lies to me.”

 

He raises an eyebrow. “Always, huh?” Darcy nods. He grins. “Care to wager?”

 

“What’s up for grabs?” Darcy says suspiciously.

 

He shrugs and his eyes sparkle with mischief. “I win, you go on a date with me, you win, you get your iPod back.”

 

Darcy doesn’t even need to think about it. “Deal.” They shake hands and she grins at him. “You ever play two truths and a lie?” He nods. “Great. Ten rounds. I get them all right, I win.”

 

“Let’s get this started.” He says, cracking his knuckles. “I have a dog named Lucky, the diner in town serves the best pie I’ve ever had, and my favourite colour is blue.” Darcy suspects that this man is an exceptional liar. But even the best liar in the universe is not immune to her skills. 

 

She grins smugly. “Blue is not your favourite colour.” 

 

He grins. “Beginner’s luck.” She shrugs and tells him to bring it on. “I’ve been to Paris eight times, Cairo four times, and Budapest twice.”

 

“Budapest must have been pretty shitty if you’ve never been back.”

 

“Lucky guess,” he says, but she can tell he’s intrigued. “I’ve had my tongue stapled before, I’ve had an arrow shot into my foot, and I have nine toes.”

 

Darcy grins. This is too easy. “Nine toed people shouldn’t be made fun of. They’re terrifying.”

 

His eyebrow ticks up a smidge. “My best friend is a Russian assassin, Area 51 has real aliens, and my boss is coming over here to tell us to knock it off.”

 

“Like real aliens would have been dumb enough to get sent to Area 51,” Darcy says dryly, turning around to see a relatively plain man walking calmly towards them. 

 

“Ms. Lewis. Agent Barton.” He says when he draws closer. “Ms. Lewis, I think it is time for you to go.”

 

“But he’s telling me all his secrets!” Darcy whines jokingly. Agent Barton sucks in a breath behind her, and suddenly she’s being marched into an interrogation room and shoved into a seat. “Woah, dude, I was kidding, sheesh.”

 

“What are you? Body language specialist? Foreign agent?” Agent Barton looms over her. 

 

She stares up at him. “Okay, I know you’re trying to be intimidating and all, but has anyone ever told you that you have really nice arm muscles?” He snorts, probably unintentionally. “Seriously though, are you an archer or something? I’ve only seen arms kind of like yours in archery club at my rec center back in Ohio.”

 

“Stop messing around, Ms. Lewis,” Agent-Man says. Unlike Barton, he’s sitting calmly in a chair, watching her inscrutably. “It is clear that you know who Agent Barton is.”

 

Darcy raises an eyebrow. “How is it clear? All I know is that he has a dog, he’s been to Budapest once, he does not have nine toes and you’re his boss. Also, his favourite colour is not blue but I couldn’t tell you what it is.”

 

“Green,” Barton pipes up. 

 

Darcy doesn’t even look at him, maintaining eye contact with Agent-Man. “No, it’s not.”

 

“Okay, is it a voice thing? You weren’t even looking at me that time, how could you possibly know that?” Barton exclaims, throwing his hands in the air.

 

“I told you, I always know when people lie to me,” Darcy says tiredly, massaging the bridge of her nose. 

 

“Okay, but  _ how _ ?” Barton asks.

 

Darcy groans and refocuses on Agent-Man. “Look, Agent, I think we can both agree that I’m not a threat to whatever your shadowy government organization wants here, so can I please leave now?” Agent-Man considers briefly then nods, holding up a hand to stall Barton’s squawk of protest.

 

“You may leave, Ms. Lewis, but we will be watching you.” He’s not lying. Darcy waves a hand at him, winks at Barton, and walks out without a second look. She makes it all the way to the front gates before running into Thor, who is conspicuously hammer-less. She comforts him and the two of them head back to their little hovel silently.

 

Darcy doesn’t see Agent-Man or Barton again until 2013, in London.

 

~~~~~~

 

“This was a normal experience for me, those elves are super fucking creepy, and it’s orange,” A familiar voice says from behind her. Darcy barely flinches. She just sighs and her shoulders slump.

 

“Orange? Yeah, right.” She hears Barton sit beside her but she doesn’t look at him, choosing instead to rub furiously at her eyes with the heel of her hands.

 

“Are you ever going to tell me how you do that?” He asks.

 

Darcy shrugs. “Maybe. Depends.”

 

“On what?”

 

“I don’t know.” She lets out a chuckle that probably borders on hysterical based on the way he tenses beside her. “Oh relax, Barton, I’m not going to lose my shit. Not here anyway.”

 

“Do you need… a hug?” He sounds so uncomfortable asking her if she needs a hug that Darcy snorts, feeling a little bit lighter.

 

“Probably,” she says, “But not from you. No offence, but I am unwilling to let anyone except my mom hug me right now.”

 

“Where’s your mom?” 

 

“Like you don’t already know. I’m sure you had people watching me at her funeral last year.” She feels him flinch beside her. “Don’t worry, I know your boss probably thought it was necessary. I’m not mad.” Nausea hits her suddenly and she doubles over, groaning. “Okay, maybe I’m a little bit mad.”

 

“Are you gonna hurl?” He asks, but the nausea is already gone.

 

“Nah, it’s passed. Hey, where’s your boss?”

 

Barton goes silent beside her and she chances a look at him to see that his face has gone tight with sorrow. “Died in New York.”

 

Darcy sucks in a breath. “Aw fuck, that was Coulson? Shit, I’m sorry man, he was a good dude.” Another flash of realization hits and Darcy winces. “And if your boss was Coulson, and you were in New York, that would make you Hawkeye, a.k.a Clint Barton.”

 

Barton grins at her. “Call me Clint. And yeah, he was a good guy.” Darcy leans against his arm in solidarity, and they spend the rest of the day watching SHIELD officials try and clean up the mess from the Convergence.

 

~~~~~~

 

The next time Darcy sees Clint, it’s 3 am and he’s just come crashing through her window, bleeding all over her couch.

 

“No one followed me, sorry about your window, red,” he says weakly, before collapsing on the floor.

 

“Clint, what the fuck!” She cries, rushing over to help him lay down on her - now blood-covered - couch.

 

“Sorry, Darce,” he says, and when did he start calling her Darce? “Mission gone sideways, need a place to crash and I knew you were close.”

 

“I thought you knew better than to lie to me by now, Clint.” Darcy grins wryly at him, assessing his injuries. “Your favourite colour isn’t red.” He chuckles and then groans in pain. “Don’t move, I’ll be right back with my First Aid Kit.” She rushes to the bathroom and grabs the kit out of the closet, then heads back to the couch. Dropping onto her knees, she pulls open the kit and deftly cuts Clint’s shirt in half, exposing his - carved from marble,  _ holy fuck _ \- chest. “Didn’t think the first time I’d be on my knees for you would be to patch you up,” Darcy says absentmindedly, wiping away the blood.

 

Clint chokes and goes to sit up, but Darcy pushes him back down. “Did I hear you right?”

 

Darcy hums. “I don’t know, are your aids on properly?” He stiffens up and Darcy says soothingly, “It’s okay Clint, I noticed in New Mexico. Figured if you wanted to say something, you would. Do you want me to take them out so I can check your ears?” He doesn’t answer her and just stays tense, so Darcy leaves them alone. 

 

“I should leave. It’s not safe for me to be here.” Clint says, but he makes no move to get up.

 

“You’re right,” Darcy agrees, “It’s not safe. But I assume you covered your tracks here well enough, and as long as I can tape some cardboard onto that window, we’ll be fine. You can sleep on the couch or in the guest room. If you’re still here when I wake up, I’ll make waffles and coffee and you can call someone to extract you.” She finishes bandaging his wounds, smoothing one final bandaid over his jaw and pulling back. “Knock if you need me.” She packs up her kit and leaves him lying on the couch with a shocked look on his face.

 

She tapes some cardboard over her broken window and resolves to call someone in the morning, then turns to walk away. “Darce?” She pauses on her way to the bathroom. “Thank you.”

 

“It’s no trouble. Least I can do.” She shuts her bedroom door with a  _ click _ and after a few seconds of debate, leaves it unlocked. Climbing into bed, she falls asleep rather quickly considering there’s an assassin in her living room. When she wakes up the next morning, she stretches under her sheets. When she leaves her room and catches sight of the empty couch, her heart falls. SHe gives her head a shake and moves to the kitchen, poking at her coffee machine until it starts working. 

 

“I really like coffee, my ninth toe hurts, and purple.” This time, Darcy does yelp as she whips around. Clint is leaning against the counter, watching her carefully.

 

Darcy very carefully does not react and just pulls another mug from her cabinet. “I like yellow, myself. Reminds me of happy times.” She sees Clint relax out of the corner of her eye. 

 

“My extraction will be here in half an hour,” Clint says.

 

Darcy nods. “Mind if I check your injuries? Wanna make sure I didn’t miss anything in the dark.” 

 

Clint nods and heads over to the couch, shucking off his shirt as he goes. Darcy grabs their mugs and follows him, putting his within arms reach and setting hers on the floor beside her. “I hope your hands aren’t cold,” Clint jokes. 

 

Darcy puts her hand on her stomach and winces. They are cold. “Give me a sec,” she mutters, shoving her hands between her thighs and rubbing them together. She pulls them out after a few seconds, and after checking them against her stomach, she starts to catalogue Clint’s injuries. “You’ve got cuts and bruises and scrapes up and down your chest and arms, and a pretty nasty bump on your head, but if you manage not to jump off any buildings in the next few days, you should be fine.”

 

“I didn’t even jump off any buildings this time!” Clint protests. Darcy raises an eyebrow at him. He grimaces. “Okay, fine. Maybe one. Or two!” He amends at Darcy’s look.

 

Darcy laughs and holds up her hands. “Relax, Clint, I’m not judging. You gotta do what you gotta do, right?” She rocks back onto her heels and takes a sip of her coffee. “I believe I promised you waffles?” Clint’s eyes widen and Darcy laughs as he nods excitably. She heads to the kitchen and starts preparing the mixture. 

 

“You know, I don’t think we ever finished our bet,” Clint says suddenly. 

 

“I think you’re right. Still think you can win?” Darcy says, winking.

 

Clint smirks. “Won’t know unless I try.” Darcy waves a hand at him. “Last night was the best I’ve slept in five years, I don’t really like waffles, and this is really fucking good coffee.”

 

Darcy scoffs. “Don’t like waffles, my ass. At least you’re not a pancake person.” Clint snorts.

 

“I lost my hearing permanently in an explosion, I miss Coulson more than anything, and I hold the world record for the best sniper shot.”

 

Darcy points a finger at him. “Bucky Barnes holds the world record. Nice try.” She turns back to her waffles and hears Clint move closer to her, setting his mug down on the counter just a few feet away. 

 

“I’m really glad we keep seeing each other, your butt looks really good on those leggings, and even if you win, I’m going to ask you out on a date.”

 

Darcy sighs. “I don’t think you understand the rules of the game, Clint, you’re supposed to have  _ two _ truths, not - oh.” She turns around and jumps at how close Clint is to her. Their chests brush together and he looks down at her, emotions written across his face. Darcy stands in shocked silence for a minute, trying to wrap her head around  _ that _ . “First of all,” she says, watching Clint’s face, “You cheated.” His face falls and he goes to move away but she grabs his arm. “Second,” His eyes snap back up to hers and he smiles hopefully. “I would have asked you out after you gave me back my iPod anyway.” 

 

“Really?” He says, grinning widely. She nods, smiling just as huge. He whoops and pulls her into a hug, swinging her in a circle. 

 

“Put me down, put me down! The waffles will burn!” She cries, smacking at his arms gently. 

 

“Let them!” He says, but he stops swinging her and puts her down. 

 

Darcy grins. “You know better than to lie to me, Barton. You don’t really want these waffles to burn, do you?” He shakes his head, eyes sparkling with mirth. Darcy finishes the waffles and they eat them together, pressed up against one another and sharing smiles. It comes to an end when Darcy’s doorbell rings and she opens the door to reveal a blond woman carrying a huge purse. 

 

“Hi, I’m Carol. I just moved into 4F downstairs? Thought I’d come by and introduce myself.” The woman says, holding out her hand. 

 

Darcy runs an eye over her, then leans back and yells, “Clint, your extraction’s here!” Turning back to the woman, she grins. “Come in, we just had waffles. There’s extra if you want.” 

 

The woman stares at her in shock, then enters her apartment silently. “You must be Darcy Lewis,” she says as she removes her heels. 

 

“That’s me.” Darcy walks back into the kitchen, poking Clint in the ribs and laughing when he yelps. 

  
He turns and sees the woman and grins, jumping out of his seat and hugging her. “You came! Didn’t know if you were busy.” The woman murmurs something in a different language and runs a critical eye over Clint’s appearance. They have a short but flurried conversation in that language, and Darcy minds her own business, whistling softly as she grabs another plate. 

 

“Those don’t have dairy in them, do they? I’m allergic.” The woman says, sitting down at the counter daintily. 

 

Darcy scoffs. “No, you aren’t. Eat the waffles.” Clint snorts at the woman’s expression. 

 

“Aw, I forgot introductions!” He says, smacking his forehead gently. “Darcy, this is -”

 

“Michelle.” The woman says, cutting a waffle and not looking at Darcy.

 

Darcy rolls her eyes. “What is it with you secret agent types and not telling the truth? It took me like, four years just to learn his favourite colour! Seriously, just accept that you can’t lie to me and move on!” She throws her hands up in the air and grumbles softly, stopping when Clint smacks a kiss onto her forehead. 

 

“Stop complaining, Darce, you know those were the best four years of your life. Anyway, this is Natasha. Nat, Darcy.” He says, casually wrapping an arm around Darcy’s waist.

 

“You really cannot be lied to?” Natasha asks, waffles forgotten. 

 

Darcy shakes her head. “Not that I’m aware. Finish your waffles, I want to run the dishwasher before it gets too expensive.” Natasha dutifully finishes her waffles and only stays for a little while after that, taking Clint with her when she leaves.

 

Clint and Darcy stand at her doorway, hugging tightly. “I’ll see you soon, I’m sorry about your couch, and I’ll pay for your window,” Clint murmurs into her hair. 

 

Darcy sighs and pulls away. Patting him on the cheek, she says, “Don’t apologize for things you aren’t sorry for Clint. Lord knows I’m not sorry for it. Brought you to me, didn’t it?” Clint grins at her and kisses her briefly, leaving her shocked into silence as he waves goodbye and heads down her stairs. 

 

A few minutes later, her phone vibrates. 

 

**Liar Liar:** _ tasha says her fave colour is pink _

_ IOU one ipod _

 

Darcy grins and taps out a response.

  
**Polygraph:** _ Liar.  _

_ pay me in kisses and ill consider us even _

 

**Liar Liar:** _deal_


End file.
